


Take Me From The Dark

by Arae



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Confessional Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sins, almost getting caught, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arae/pseuds/Arae
Summary: Tomas’ breath catches in his throat and he’s left completely mute, unable to utter even the simplest word. It’s quiet, too quiet in this booth, and it makes every single word coming from Marcus thoroughly divine.Every second without Marcus’ voice feels like he’s running out of air, a silent torture that only ends when Marcus speaks again. And when he does, the air is suddenly rushing back inside Tomas’ body, filling up his lungs and bringing him back from limbo.





	Take Me From The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back with my first nsfw work on AO3, and I honestly don't know what came over me. I just decided to write the Tomarcus church porn of my dreams, so here we are. It's sinful, but I guess you already all signed up for this, didn't you? Enjoy! :)
> 
> IMPORTANT: if you're just in the mood for shameless smut, you can skip the introduction. I just wanted to give some context to my fic!

_“Sensuality without love is a sin; love without sensuality is worse than a sin.”_

_\- José Bergamín_

 

* * *

 

 

The house is unsurprisingly still quiet as Tomas returns from his regular morning run. After closing the door, he silently makes his way upstairs and directly to the bathroom, turning the tap on and splashing some fresh water over his face. Some drops of water run along his jaw, down to the curve of his neck and collarbone as Tomas runs a hand over his wet forehead before grabbing a towel to dry his face off. 

As he lowers the towel, the young priest catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and cannot help but stare. His hair has grown a little bit, it’s almost curly now, and Tomas doesn’t know if he should cut it or let it that way. Marcus certainly seems to like it. _You should keep it like that, luv, fits our new lifestyle_ , the man once joked from the couch as Tomas was examining his hair in a mirror. 

A few weeks prior, they had stopped in a small town for an exorcism. Some teenage girl who, with Tomas and Marcus’ help, was saved without causing too much havoc, except for the death of the town’s beloved priest. The people had asked Tomas to replace him, at least until a new one was sent, and Tomas had remarked that maybe, a few weeks off wouldn’t hurt. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken much to convince Marcus, but what had truly done the trick was to show him the house they were allowed to live in while Tomas served as the town’s priest. A real house, not some dirty and cheap motel with beds that were suspiciously clean – two words that, according to Tomas, shouldn’t be associated when talking about a bed. 

Marcus still complains, sometimes, but Tomas is starting to see right through him. Despite the complains, he never once made a suggestion to actually pack their bags and leave. Tomas knows Marcus secretly likes it, and he himself wonders what a life like that would look like. People appreciate him, the town is quiet and peaceful. Despite Tomas’ initial purposes in life, a part of him would have enjoyed a life like this, devoid of any real ambition, spent helping his people and worshipping his God. But as Tomas has learnt months ago, life rarely goes the way one plans it. His life is on the road now, with Marcus and the occasional demons crossing their path. 

As his thoughts begin to build and revolve around Marcus, Tomas once again focuses on his own body. His white collar lays forgotten on the edge of the sink and he spots a love bite, just starting to turn purple, on the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He can’t stop the blush that colors his cheeks in a soft shade of pink as he’s reminded of the exact moment Marcus left this mark on his neck, during the previous night. At least he was clever enough to do it in a place where it can easily be covered up. The force of habit, he guesses. 

Before he can stop himself, Tomas runs a finger over the mark, a warm feeling rushing to his body when the bite stings a bit, a slightly painful but pleasurable souvenir of their night together. This is driving him crazy, he wants more of it, wants to be marked until he has no other choice than to question who he really belongs to. If the answer would have been obvious a few months ago, it’s now quite less obvious and holy. 

Marcus is still sleeping in their bedroom, probably hogging all the covers, and Tomas smiles at the mental image. He learnt early, way before their relationship took a turn for something more intimate, that he either gets up before the sun, or when it’s almost time for lunch. There is no in-between. Though since they got together, it tends to be the later more often than not. 

The temptation to go back to bed and wake Marcus up with a _special_ treat is great, but Tomas successfully manages to keep it at bay. Marcus likes to describe them as being stuck in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, a depiction that’s quite ironic considering at least one of them is still very much officially a priest. But Tomas came to the conclusion that Marcus likes it, likes the forbidden nature of their relationship. The fact that despite this certain interdiction, it still happened. 

Tomas stares down at his hand where a small scar is starting to form. He has a few of them on his body now, dating from around two months ago when everything changed. All it takes is for him to close his eyes, and all the memories from _that_ night rush back to his mind. 

About one month prior to their arrival in this town, Marcus and Tomas had found themselves confronted to a rather tough demon, and an exorcism that wasn’t going so well. The possessed man escaped, and they eventually found him near a cliff. While trying to restrain him, a violent kick in the ribs had sent Tomas over the edge, down into the freezing waters below. He still remembers the feeling of the icy water encircling his body, a shapeless cage holding him prisoner and slowly stealing the air left in his lungs. 

Thankfully, he had managed to make it back to the shore despite the darkness of the night and the agitated waves, and that’s when Marcus had grabbed him and pulled his trembling body against his chest, whispering words of relief. Tomas’ body was cold, his clothes soaked against Marcus’ shirt and he was shaking, _but he was fine, thank God he was fine_. 

To this day, the identity of the person who initiated the kiss remains a complete mystery. In that moment, it had only seemed natural, and they were both pulled towards each other until their lips made contact, Tomas feeling the warmth of Marcus’ mouth against his own, Marcus probably tasting the salty water on Tomas’ lips. When they had parted after what felt like an eternity, it was with the silent promise that this, whatever was happening between them, was only the beginning. 

Later, after the exorcism was completed, in the privacy of their rented motel bedroom, Tomas had gently pushed Marcus against the bed. Perhaps it had been the terror he knew Marcus had felt at the thought of losing Tomas, or his own fear of dying, finally ironically pushing him over the edge, forcing him to take the first step and act on his feelings. 

Due to their inexperience in that particular field, their first time had been quite awkward, but in a way that was so sweet it brought tears to their eyes. The bedroom was filled with moans, gasps and small chuckles as they slowly learnt their way around each other’s bodies, which eventually resulted in both a passionate and gentle night of love-making. 

In the morning, they had woken up completely satiated and happy, but still needing each other. And that need hadn’t weakened over the past few weeks. They couldn’t get enough of each other, and the fact that they both felt the same way about it often came in handy to relieve their needs. 

As weeks passed, the two exorcists began to discover each other’s bodies and to grow more adventurous. Especially Marcus, it was like he wanted to make it up for forty-one years of chastity. Tomas quickly found out his partner was no stranger to some sexual fantasies, despite not having experienced them himself, and he couldn’t help but wonder how exactly Marcus became acquainted with those. Perhaps demons showed them to him in an effort to tempt him? Marcus once confessed that several demons tried to take Tomas’ appearance to seduce him, but that they can never get his eyes quite right, which is how he always knows he’s being tricked. 

Nevertheless, Tomas thinks as he lifts his head up and stares at his stubble in the mirror, despite their tendency to grow bolder in intimate matters usually kept in the bedroom, he’s still convinced that Marcus has limits when it comes to this, restrictions blocking him from crossing a certain line of decency.  

A few hours later, while Tomas is sitting in the middle of the church, he’s reminded of his morning thoughts about the ex-priest’s decency, and how wrong he had been. Turning his head around, he catches a glimpse of Marcus smirking at him from the last pew of the church, his usual seat when Tomas is leading Mass on Sunday mornings. 

 _That smirk_ , Tomas thinks as he focuses back on the wooden cross suspended above the altar, _that smirk is going to be the end of me_. 

The adrenaline in his body is slowly wearing off, but Tomas’ heart is still pounding in his chest at the reminder of what they just did. His pants are stained and he knows Marcus’ are, too, and the man is probably enjoying himself immensely knowing what they had been up to just around fifteen minutes ago. 

In retrospect, Tomas probably should have seen it coming.

 

* * *

 

The church is remotely quiet on this Wednesday morning, when Tomas makes his way through the big wooden doors. He walks in the middle of the pews, completely deserted, and idly wonders if the explanation resides in the fact that there’s maybe some sort of town event unheard of from his side. Marcus usually doesn’t care much about that type of activities, so if there was one, Tomas wouldn’t hear about it from him. 

As he reaches the confessional, Tomas takes a few seconds to contemplate it. Despite the rather rudimentary state of the church – not surprising, in a small town like this – the confessional is truly a work of beauty. Built in a dark expensive wood, the two sides are carefully hidden by red curtains, so much that it would be futile for anyone from the outside to try and catch a glimpse of the interior. 

The inside of the confessional is as dark as one would expect, because of the thick curtains blocking the entrance, and Tomas already spent too much time inside. As a matter of fact, the beginning of the afternoon was already spent listening to penitents from his temporary parish, some of them with declarations that would almost make him question his own faith. _For the last time, mister Adkins, accidentally stepping on your step-mother’s toe is not a sin._

Despite this, he’s grown to appreciate the people from this parish. They’re kind, and the town itself is quiet and peaceful, the perfect picture for two worn out exorcists to get some rest. It’s a nice change from their tumultuous life on the road.

A few minutes after sitting down, Tomas hears someone walk inside the church and he straightens his back, sitting back properly as the visitor seems to be making their way down the pews, visibly headed for the confessional. He wipes invisible dust away from his clothes, even though he can barely see, while waiting for the penitent to walk in. His eyes are closed while the curtains are drawn, and the person sits down as they both find themselves plunged in semi-darkness. While they are most likely finding their words and getting ready to talk, Tomas can’t help but wonder what sort of confession he’s about to hear. An adultery, perhaps? It’s rather uncommon in small towns like this, since secrets can’t usually be kept for a long time. Maybe it’s going to be something more common, then. 

Tomas snaps out of his thoughts as a masculine voice rises up in the booth, and he is left speechless at the revelation of the penitent’s identity. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Out of all the things he was expecting, hearing Marcus Keane’s voice was definitely not one of them. Tomas instinctively turns his head on the side, effectively catching a very faint glimpse of his partner’s face while the man is looking straight in front of him. His hands seem to be in his lap and his voice is calm, controlled. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Marcus–“

However, Marcus doesn’t seem to care and simply keeps talking, as if he was completely alone in the stall. “It’s been two months since my last confession.”

Swallowing, Tomas puts his own hands in his lap and he anxiously starts playing with the edge of his shirt. The uncertainty of his current situation is making him scared of what Marcus is about to reveal. Is he serious? Is this a real confession? Tomas’ heartbeat starts to accelerate as he imagines the very different confessions Marcus could be about to make. Could he be regretting what they have been doing? Is this him finding a quite unusual way to put an end to what they have together? 

“I’ve been having many lustful thoughts about my partner. More than one could consider it acceptable.” 

Marcus’ voice doesn’t flinch, and all Tomas cares about are the words slipping past the man’s lips. What is he talking about? Despite keeping them hidden for a long time, Marcus has never been ashamed of his wants when it comes to Tomas, even when they have been adventurous with their desires and have tried new things, for the better or the worse. 

When Tomas stays silent, Marcus visibly takes it as his cue to go on. 

“He’s on my mind days and nights, whenever he’s with me or not. I feel his eyes on me, his warm breath against my ears, as if he’s constantly whispering to me. I feel his hands on my body, touching, marking, _claiming_.”

Oh, this voice. And _those_ words. Tomas’ hands are still fidgeting with the soft fabric of his shirt in an attempt to distract himself from Marcus’ words. What game is he playing? Tomas doesn’t doubt the veracity of his words, but he’s trying to figure out why exactly did Marcus choose this moment and place to tell him about it. Except…maybe he’s expecting something from Tomas. 

“I can’t stop thinking about last night, and all the times he touched me and let me touch him. All the things he said to me. The desire, the lust, the _love_. I’m afraid I’ve become addicted to him, Father.”

Tomas’ breath catches in his throat and he’s left completely mute, unable to utter even the simplest word. It’s quiet, _too quiet_ in this booth, and it makes every single word coming from Marcus thoroughly divine. 

Every second without Marcus’ voice feels like he’s running out of air, a silent torture that only ends when Marcus speaks again. And when he does, the air is suddenly rushing back inside Tomas’ body, filling up his lungs and bringing him back from limbo. 

“I remember the first time he made love to me,” Marcus begins, and that’s when Tomas knows he’s _fucked_. “How desperate I was, how I kept begging him for more, more, and _more_ he gave me, my beautiful boy.” There’s a soft sigh coming from somewhere in the booth, and Tomas doesn’t even know if it came from Marcus or from him. “I remember every word he spoke to me, every sound he made, every touch of his fingers upon my burning skin. I remember it all, Father, and God help me, I want it, all over again.”

At those words, Tomas’ hand stops playing with his shirt, only to tighten around his own thigh. His body is starting to grow warmer, he can feel it, and he knows his blood is rushing down. 

“He probably remembers it, too, how my body squirmed as he found my most sensitive spots. How he made me moan and whimper with his fingers, his tongue, and the most intimate part of him.”

Oh, Tomas remembers, indeed. He remembers everything and at this point, hearing more of Marcus’ words isn’t even a want anymore, it’s a need. A necessity he can’t afford if he wants his pants to stay entirely clean. And yet, he doesn’t say anything to stop it. He cannot help himself, and Tomas almost lets out a gasp when his thumb accidentally brushes against his hardening cock, thankfully clothed. 

As he waits for his lover’s voice to fill the silence again, Tomas wonders if a demon made its home on Marcus’ tongue. It would make sense, really, but the more he thinks about it, the less like a dream it feels. It’s real, heartrendingly real, and when Marcus doesn’t speak, Tomas is getting closer to give in, to give them both exactly what they want. 

It’s an experience comparable to standing on the edge of a cliff again, and leaning, leaning, _leaning_ until he can almost feel the salt of the sea water against his face. And then, when he’s too far gone, when he’s leaned too much, Tomas is _falling_. 

“Keep going.”

There’s a brief silence, and Tomas knows he just gave Marcus exactly what the man wants. 

“I remember it all, Father.” Marcus repeats, and is it just Tomas or does his voice seem a bit hoarse? “But it’s not enough. Whenever he’s not by my side, I only wish for him to be in my arms.”

It’s a trap, and Tomas is walking right into it, head first. He’s perfectly aware of it but he wants nothing more than to be trapped, to see how far they will both allow this to go. 

When Tomas eventually speaks again, he’s trying his best to control himself and to keep a serene tone of voice. “And what…what would you do to him, if he was in your arms?”

Tomas can almost hear the smirk in Marcus’ voice as the ex-priest keeps taking, something he has expected. But it’s stronger than him, how could he just walk out of this place as if nothing is currently happening? 

“I crave to feel his naked skin against mine.” Marcus answers. “I wanna touch him, I’ll never get enough. I wanna run my hands all over his body, map every inch of his skin with my tongue so I never forget it.”

Despite being in almost complete darkness, the young priest is certain that if he checked his face in a mirror, his cheeks would be tainted by a small blush. If Marcus used to be shy at first when it came to expressing his desires, a few weeks of being in an intimate relationship with Tomas has certainly loosened up his tongue. Seeing how aroused Tomas was whenever he heard Marcus talk dirty certainly helped the main gain a lot of confidence in his bedroom skills.

“I touched myself, Father, touched myself while thinking of all the things I could do to him.”

Tomas lets out a gasp and almost has to cover his mouth when he hears those words. Marcus’ masturbatory habits are nothing new, and it’s far from being the first time he hears someone talk about masturbation in a confessional but in this particular situation, it makes a big difference. 

The small noise coming from Tomas seems to have put an halt to Marcus’ confession, but it quickly resumes when no protest is heard from the priest. “I wanna defile him right here, inside this sacred place. Inside the house of God.” He says, and Tomas is trying his hardest not to think about his cock and how much it’s aching to be touched. “I wanna lay him down on the altar and ravish him. Slowly but hard and deep, until my name is the only thing coming out of his mouth, the only thing on his mind. I wanna ravish him until God himself knows he’s mine and _mine alone_.” 

When he hears this, Tomas lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His partner’s possessive side is nothing new, he has started learning about it after he saw the way Marcus dealt with random drunk men that were a bit too insistent while talking to Tomas. He cannot help but love this possessive side and how it sometimes shows up in bed when Marcus is worshipping his body. 

“But He knows, I know He does. He’s the one who sent him to me, directly from Heaven.” Marcus’ voice suddenly rises up again, and Tomas is hanging onto every word. He feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t hear the next word, again and again. If Marcus is addicted, then what does that make of him? “And my beautiful boy, he knows it too. He knows how much I want him.”

Tomas bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stop himself from agreeing, because he knows, indeed. The purple mark on his neck alone is a proof of that. 

“I wonder what it would feel like to let him have me on this altar, to let him bend me over it and take me hard.” Marcus confesses, and Tomas closes his eyes as he pictures the scene himself. “Or perhaps I could get into this very confessional, on his side, and get on my knees. I wanna worship him with my mouth. God, Father, I want it all.” 

This time, Tomas’ eyes snap open at those last words. “What did you say?”

“I…” For the first time, Marcus seems taken aback, unable to find his words and Tomas can’t help but feel proud that he’s the one responsible for this. 

“The last part. ”

“I wanna worship him with my mouth."

Closing his eyes again, Tomas lets out a sigh and brings the palm of his hand over his clothed cock, feeling how hard he currently is. All because of Marcus’ words. “Don’t stop.”

There’s a silence, and Tomas is insure if it’s because Marcus is choosing his words carefully or if it’s because he genuinely wasn’t expecting Tomas to respond so positively to this. Probably both.  

After a few seconds, Marcus finally picks up where he had left.  

“I would start by kneeling between his legs, slowly spreading them. I would lower his fly down while staring up at him in the eyes, his beautiful eyes. God,” He sighs, “You have no idea what they do to me.” There’s a small pause but thankfully for Tomas, it doesn't last long, and the silence is soon filled with Marcus’ _exquisite_ words again. 

“Then, I would wrap my hand around him, feel the shape of him. And then, finally, I would take him inside my mouth. I would go slowly, at first, make sure to take my time, to savor him, the gift God made to me.”

This worshipping thing is going _too far_ but it’s devilishly effective. Before he can stop it, a moan slips past Tomas’ lips and even if he tries to muffle it, he knows it’s too late. He hears shifting from the other side, and comes to the conclusion that Marcus is starting to get uncomfortable in his clothing, too. He idly wonders if, like him, Marcus is palming himself through his pants. 

Eventually, Marcus asks a question he was starting to lose hope he would hear one day. 

“Are you hard?”

Tomas is panting, and the answer falls from his trembling lips like a prayer to his Lord would. 

“God, _yes_.”

When he speaks, he feels relief, feels like the words have been hanging on his tongue since an eternity. Meanwhile, Marcus stays silent and Tomas knows what he’s thinking of. This is it, this is the culmination of whatever game they’ve been playing, from the first words Marcus has spoken to him in the confessional to this. This is what Marcus wanted from the start.

“ _Do it_.” Tomas whispers, and he knows it’s all Marcus was waiting to hear. 

The exorcist starts moving and Tomas throws his head back against the confessional wall, almost in a defeated way. He lets out a soft sigh and closes his eyes in anticipation of what’s going to happen just as Marcus draws the curtain and gets out of the confessionnal. The truth is still hard to accept, he can’t believe he’s actually going to do this, not even in a church but in a confessional, where people are supposed to be absolved for their sins, not to _make new ones_. 

For a second, he sees light from outside as Marcus pulls the curtain open and gets inside and just like that, the darkness is back. The only sound in the booth is the ragged sound of their breathing, and then Marcus gets down on his knees, exactly like how he has promised he would do. 

“Forgive me, Father,” He whispers while looking up, and Tomas can see the outline of his rough-looking face, “not for what I did, but for what I’m about to do.” And oh, how can someone’s voice sound so sexy while saying things like that? Tomas doesn’t have a satisfying answer and he doubt he’ll ever find one.  

Marcus keeps his promise and lowers Tomas’ fly, lifting his shirt up slightly and leaning just enough to press his lips against Tomas’ flat and defined stomach, and the young priest knows it’s going to be more complicated to stay calm than he first thought. Marcus’ lips leave butterfly kisses on Tomas’ skin and slowly travel down until they reach his groin and the soft dark hair at the base of his cock. 

Tomas finds out it’s getting harder to breathe, especially with how much of a tease Marcus has visibly determined to be today. Thankfully for him, Marcus decides to take things a little bit further and suddenly plunges his hand inside Tomas’ pants, wrapping a hand around him. It’s the first time he’s being touched today, and long and slender fingers are curling around his cock, leaving him almost completely breathless. 

Marcus doesn’t wait and gets him out of his pants before maneuvering his hand around the base, and Tomas shifts a bit, trying to stay composed, but it’s all over when the hand around his cock suddenly squeezes him. 

“ _¡Joder!_ ”  He exclaims, and Marcus lets out a little laugh. 

“Cursing in the house of God? My, my, what would He say, Tomas?”

Tomas certainly can’t argue with that. He is, indeed, shouting profanities in a confessional, but he bites back a remark about how cursing is probably not the most obscene part of their current predicament. Besides, snapping at someone whose hand is currently wrapped around his cock might not be the brightest idea of the century.  

Visibly not expecting an answer, Marcus starts moving his hand, slowly stroking him to full hardness while his other hand rests on Tomas’ thigh, gently keeping him in place. 

“I feel like I should take my collar off.” Tomas states and he doesn’t even know if he’s joking or serious. A bit of both, probably. 

“No, sweetheart, keep it on.” Marcus replies on an authoritative tone despite the sweet name, and how can Tomas refuse when Marcus is speaking to him like that? 

For a few seconds, all Tomas feels is the hot and humid air from Marcus’ mouth caressing his cock, and he intuitively grasps the rosary he doesn’t even remember bringing with him. As he tries to distract himself, he can’t help but think about Marcus’ position, about how it’s probably the farthest thing from comfortable, how his knees are scrapping against the harsh ground. “Don’t your knees hurt?” He asks, and regrets it as soon as he hears Marcus’ reply. 

“This isn’t he first time I kneel down to worship someone.” The ex-priest says, and Tomas almost rolls his eyes. _Of course_ he would say something like that. “But I have to admit it never felt so good.” Damn him and his wicked tongue, and the more Tomas thinks about this tongue, the more he wants to taste it, to feel it slide against his own, wet and hot and undoubtedly _perfect_.  

As Marcus’ lips descend on his cock, Tomas’ hands tighten around his rosary until he feels like the shape of the cross is going to be burnt into his palms. His thumb strokes the crucifix, seeking comfort, strength for what Marcus is about to do. 

And he’s going to need strength indeed, because Marcus starts by gently pressing feather-like kisses against the side of his cock. Tomas lets out a moan when the lips brush against the head, and he wonders what expressions Marcus would see on his face, if there was more light inside the booth. 

Marcus chooses this moment to start giving attention to the head, swirling his tongue around it, and Tomas is really starting to believe he won’t make it to the end of it. It’s a sweet torture, a torture like he’s never felt before, and he spreads his legs a bit in order to give Marcus more space to work with. 

It’s not long before Marcus finally takes him into his mouth, his grip on Tomas’ thigh remaining gentle and tender. Tomas definitely needs the gentleness as his partner’s mouth is starting to take him deeper, inch by inch, Tomas’ member slipping through his parter’s lips until he feels the warmth of Marcus’ mouth over half of his cock. 

“Cariño–“ He says, and his heartbeat is starting to accelerate as he resumes panting. Marcus feels the weight of him with his tongue, swirls it along the underside, and Tomas is trying his best not to _faint_. This is what Marcus is doing to him. 

Marcus’ mouth pulls away a little and Tomas almost _whines_ , but he soon realizes Marcus isn’t leaving, but instead wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, his tongue teasing the slit, dipping into it while his hand is stroking the base, and Tomas needs _more_. 

“No te detengas, _por favor_ –“

Him reverting to Spanish doesn’t come as a surprise, as the young priest often speaks in his native tongue in the bedroom. He knows the effect it has on Marcus, how much the man loves it, and he rarely wastes an opportunity to turn him on. Furthermore, he knows Marcus’ Spanish is far from being rusty, and that he understands practically every word that slips past Tomas’ lips. 

Throwing his head back against the wooden wall, Tomas bites on his bottom lip as Marcus tastes him, torments him with the slow and passionate movements of his tongue, and he’s reminded of the first time Marcus ever gave him head. He had been hesitant and quite sloppy, staring up at Tomas’ face to make sure he was doing great and pleasing him. Despite this, Tomas can’t remember a moment it didn’t feel good. 

Tomas is abruptly jerked out of his thoughts when the sound of footsteps reach his ears. He doesn’t have to pull Marcus’ head away as the man does it himself and in the almost complete darkness of the confessional, their eyes somehow meet. There is no need for them to talk to understand that they’re sharing the same interrogations and fear that someone is actually going to walk in on them. 

It doesn’t happen, though, and Tomas allows himself to let out a sigh of relief. However, just as he does so, the curtain of the other booth is being pulled by someone, presumably the person he was hearing a few seconds ago, and Tomas’ heart just _stops_ as he instinctively puts a hand over his mouth. He’s petrified and he can tell Marcus is, too. They don’t even dare moving, as they feel like moving just from an inch would be like giving away all the sinful things they have been doing. Fortunately for them, it’s too dark for their unprompted visitor to notice that the priest occupying the confessional booth isn’t quite alone in it.

He doesn’t have to look on the side to know that the person is making the sign of the cross with their hand. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Tomas silently lowers his hand and manages to keep his mouth shut as the woman starts talking. No, no, no, this _cannot_ be happening. 

“In the name of the father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. It’s been three weeks since my last confession.”

Tomas is silent, still under shock. What are they going to do? He’s already thinking about the unwanted consequences of this woman catching them in the act, and it feels like his blood is freezing in his veins. 

Between his legs, Marcus shifts a bit so he can rest his cheek against Tomas’ thigh and the woman must assume it’s Tomas, because she simply resumes talking. 

“I was…I was at a neighbor’s party, my husband was on a business trip, and I s–saw this man–“ She begins, obviously ashamed of her own words as she keeps stuttering, almost unable to keep going. 

Tomas can feel feel Marcus’ warm breath against his naked skin, against his _cock_ , and the reminder of what they’re currently doing is almost painful. Oh, God. 

“He’s one of my friend’s cousins, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. We started talking and he was nice, and I couldn’t help myself, Father. I saw his wedding ring, and I felt jealousy at the thought that a woman gets to wake up next to him every morning.”

In that moment, the confession barely matters to Tomas. Marcus suddenly leans, and his mouth is getting dangerously close to Tomas’ softening cock, so much that he wonders if its a test, if Marcus is trying to see how far he can go and get away with it. And God help him, Tomas wants it. He wants to be defiled in this sacred place, wants Marcus’ mouth on his cock while a woman from his parish is confessing less than a few feet away from them. 

The hardest part will undeniably be for him to stay silent. It’s no secret that Tomas is quite loud in bed, and whenever Marcus’ hands or tongue are on him. This is a new challenge, and Marcus is probably as excited as Tomas, if not more, to find out if they can beat it.  

When Marcus tries to get closer, Tomas instinctively tugs on his short hair to keep him at bay, at least for a few seconds. What he doesn’t expect is the very soft moan against his skin, and he mentally curses himself for forgetting how much Marcus enjoys having his hair pulled – something that’s enjoyed on both sides, if Tomas is completely honest with himself. 

Thankfully, the woman is too preoccupied by her confession to even hear the moan. “But it didn’t stop there, oh no.” She says, and Tomas can tell she’s shaking her head as she speaks. Meanwhile, Marcus’ mustache is tickling his thigh a little, which elicits a small smile from Tomas.  

“I saw him again after the party, several times, always when my husband was away. We never did anything, Father, I _promise_.” She insists on it. “But I had s–sexual thoughts about someone to whom I am not married.”

 _You and I are both in the same boat,_ Tomas thinks as he absentmindedly plays with Marcus’ hair, his thumb slowly caressing the top of his head. 

“Did you attend Mass?” He suddenly asks, trying to keep his voice as calm and composed as possible. 

“I did, but I was inattentive. I couldn’t–“ She gasps, “couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Marcus visibly chooses this moment to take action and before Tomas can stop him, he leans and takes the tip of Tomas’ cock back into his mouth, something he truly wasn’t expecting to happen. 

“Dios mío–“ He curses under his breath and somehow, the woman understands. She also seems to think it’s aimed at her. 

“I know, father, it’s bad, I’m so sorry.”

Tomas can’t believe it. He’s sure Marcus would have laughed if his mouth wasn’t literally full. 

“It–it’s alright.” He tries to reassure her and himself at the same time. Everything will be alright, it _has_ to be. But how can it be alright, a little voice in his head keeps taunting him, when Tomas enjoys it so much? The thrill, the danger, the possibility of getting caught send his mind spinning. 

“Keep going–“ He instructs, and Marcus must think it’s directed at him, too, because he takes Tomas deeper inside his warm mouth and _God, please give me strength_. 

Tomas’ hands cups the back of Marcus’ head but doesn’t apply any pressure, and he’s doing his hardest not to buck into this hot and welcoming mouth. 

“Well, I keep having those thoughts, Father, about him, about him and me. I cannot help myself, he’s always on my mind.” She says, and Tomas can’t help but think that she should have a talk with Marcus. Those two would probably get along very well. 

Just as Tomas begins to think that he’s getting the hang of it, Marcus suddenly starts bobbing his head up and down, and Tomas listens with horror to the gasp that suddenly slips past his lips. This time, the woman is getting suspicious. “Father…? Are you alright?”

“Y–Yes, I’m fine.” Tomas replies, and Marcus doesn’t seem to enjoy that, as he goes even harder on his cock, his head moving faster. It’s almost like he’s taking this as a challenge, and “fine” definitely doesn’t seem to define how he wants Tomas to be feeling right now. 

The woman doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? If you’re sick, Father, maybe you should go see a doctor.”

“No, no, I’m not sick.” He immediately replies, probably a bit too quick, before letting out a cough. _I just need to come_. “I’m fine, really. Please keep going.” 

The rosary is back in his hands because he desperately needs to hold onto something and he’s afraid that touching Marcus is going to make things even worse. Tomas is practically sure the shape of his crucifix is going to be printed on the palms of his hands for at least a day or two, with how tightly he’s squeezing it. There’s sweat running down his forehead, and he’s ran his hand into his hair more than a few times, probably rendering it into quite the mess. Now that’s a picture Marcus would probably enjoy. 

As Marcus keeps moving over his cock, sucking long and hard on it, Tomas barely pays attention to the words spoken by the penitent. He simply hums sometimes, just to make her believe he is, in fact, still listening. 

“I’m afraid I lost myself along the way, Father.” 

 _Didn’t we all_ , Tomas thinks as the crucifix is pressed between his palms, a prayer for something unknown, a call for help, maybe, because she’s still there and Marcus is still going down on him like he wants to suck the life out of him, and how is Tomas going to make it to the end without blowing everything up? 

“No one is lost forever, you just need to be put back on the right path.” He replies, surprisingly calm, and knows he’s expected to keep talking when there’s no answer coming from the other side of the confessional. It’s time to end this, he thinks as Marcus keeps obscenely moving his head up and down on his cock, and his mouth is unbelievably warm and wet as it worships his flesh, as if it is the holiest thing Marcus has ever touched. 

“Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.” He declares, and the woman is completely silent, as if hanging onto his every word. “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

“Jesus is Lord.” She answers, and Tomas hears her reaching for something inside of her jacket, most likely her own rosary. She needs something to hold onto, too, but for a very different reason. 

“Let us pray and ask for forgiveness.” He announces while Marcus’ hand moves to his thigh, then down, and _oh, no, please, don’t—_ “Is there any prayer you wish to say for our L-Lord?”

“Yes.” The woman says, and she seems to be playing with the pearls on her rosary, judging from the sounds that reach Tomas’ ears. 

Just as she begins praying, Marcus’ hand gently cups his balls and starts fondling them, and Tomas knows he would have let out quite the wanton moan if they were in the privacy of their bedroom. It’s getting _really_ complicated to remain silent as heat starts to pool in his belly. He’s close, and he’s going to come in a _damn_ confessional, with a woman from his parish reciting a prayer to God right next to him. 

“Lord, with your bright open heart, forgive me for showing darkness to the light.” A shaking feminine voice fills the silence of the confessional, and Tomas is counting the seconds, hoping that she will be gone by the time of his release. But it seems like Marcus set for his personal goal to make Tomas come before the end of it, seeing all the efforts he’s putting into this. “Putting my back to what is right was wrong and I have sinned against you.”

Tomas feels himself hit the back of Marcus’ throat and he can hear a few choking sounds, which only makes him proud despite the fact that this could very much compromise them. Thankfully for them, the woman is still praying and doesn’t seem to notice due to the sound of her own voice. As his release gets closer and closer, Tomas gives in and grabs the back of Marcus’ head, bucking his hips slightly a few times, making sure he’s not choking his partner. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened a few seconds ago, after all.

“Forgive me, O merciful one.” The woman says, and Tomas starts to whisper along with her. He doesn’t know nor care if she can hear him. “Because I have relished my wrong and I am sorry for what I have done.”

“Lord,” Tomas whispers, and he doesn’t even hear her anymore. “I am ready to continue following in your footsteps.” 

Marcus’ hand is becoming more insistent, playing with his balls and tears are gathering in Tomas’ eyes, because he doesn’t know if he’s ever gotten so much pleasure from someone sucking him off, and the danger of the situation is only making things better because all it would take is a noise a bit too loud, slightly more light, or for Tomas to stutter a bit too much, and their whole world would crumble. The thought is intoxicating, slowly poisoning his veins until he feels like his whole being is corrupted by lust, by Marcus’ warmth, and he’s ready to give in. 

“Take me from the dark,” 

Tomas gasps when Marcus swallows around his cock, and he can tell the man is refraining himself from moaning, which leads Tomas to realize he’s not the only one in a crucial situation there. “Hear me now, O Lord,”

He’s close, so damn close, his breathing is getting heavy and masking it is becoming more and more arduous while his stomach starts to contract and pressure keeps building, and he knows there’s no going back, knows he’s shamefully going to come right here, in this confessional, absolving a penitent from her sins while neglecting his own. 

“ _Amen_.” 

She’s doing the sign of the cross and Tomas can’t help but follow, like his body doesn’t belong to him anymore. His hand is shaking as it touches his forehead first, “In the name of the Father,” then moves to the center of his chest, “and of the Son,” and _God, Marcus is doing this wonderful thing with his tongue again_ , and his trembling fingers reach the front of his left shoulder, “and of the Holy–“, and _it’s never going to end, he’s never going to make it_ –

“–Spirit.”

And suddenly it’s too much, _too much_ , and Tomas is standing over the edge of the cliff, except this time the waters below aren’t icy and deadly, but warm and welcoming, like Marcus’ arms, and Tomas is falling, falling, _falling_ –

He sees stars behind his eyelids – a whole galaxy shining at him – and Tomas has to put a hand over his mouth in order to muffle any noise threatening to fall from it. He comes down Marcus’ throat in thick spurts and the ex-priest does his best to swallow everything, but Tomas can already tell it’s going to be messy. He’s never come that hard before. 

When he’s done, Marcus wipes his mouth and pulls away, only to rest his head against Tomas’ thigh, trying his best to catch his breath in silence. 

Tomas slowly comes down from his orgasm, internally sighing in relief while the pressure evaporates, and the silence didn't seem to bother the woman, as she was most likely repeating the same prayer again and again while waiting for Tomas’ voice. She’s sincere, that’s for sure, seeing how bothered she seems to be by her own sins. 

“God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son,” He begins, and Marcus is gently stroking his thigh in a comforting manner, “has reconciled the world to himself, and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.” Now that he feels like his feet are steadily touching the ground again, it’s unsurprisingly easier to talk. 

Marcus lazily starts peppering kisses upon Tomas’ softening cock and the skin around it, and Tomas lets out a small gasp since he’s still very much sensitive down there. “Through the ministry of the Church, may God grant you pardon and peace.”

“And I absolve you of your sins,” He feels Marcus’ hand tighten around his thigh at those words. “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” 

It’s over, _God, it’s over_ , and Tomas cannot believe he actually did it. Beat whatever challenge had appeared with this woman walking into the confessional. 

"Give thanks to the Lord for He is good," Tomas says, and he lets his head fall against the wall when he’s done speaking.

" _For His mercy endures forever_.” The woman answers, and with that and a small thank you, she finally gets up and walks out.  

For a few seconds, the silence in the booth is deadly, as neither of them dares to talk. The danger is still there, and they cannot be sure the woman isn’t going to come back. However, after a moment, it seems clear that she’s not in the church anymore. Marcus lets out a sigh of relief and Tomas feels like he can finally breathe again. 

“Oh my god.”

And just like that, they’re laughing. Tomas feels his tense muscles finally start to loosen up, and Marcus gently squeezes Tomas’ thigh. 

“How many prayers do you think I am required to say to be absolved from this sin?” Tomas asks, and even in the darkness of the booth, Tomas can imagine the wide grin on Marcus’ face. 

“It depends.” The ex-priest shrugs, “On a scale from one to eating breakfast with Satan himself, how blasphemous do you think this is?” 

“ _Cállate_.”

The sound of Marcus’ laugh warms up Tomas’ heart. 

He tucks himself back into his pants and just after making sure no one’s sitting in the pews, they get out as well. It feels great to finally be out of the stall, and it takes Tomas’ eyes a few seconds to get used to the light again. He only takes a few steps before leaning against the nearest pillar, still slightly panting. 

“Would you be willing to take my confession, _Father?_ Because I have a lot of things to confess.” Marcus asks, and Tomas lets out a chuckle. He doesn’t have anything to answer and Marcus leans against the same pillar, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Tomas. After quickly looking around and making sure they’re all alone in the church, he tilts his head and steals a kiss, chastely pressing his lips against Tomas’, and the young priest realizes this is the first kiss they’ve shared today. 

Tomas melts into the kiss, his lips slowly moving back against the other’s, and he lets out a small moan when he tastes himself on Marcus’ tongue. He cups the man’s cheek with his hand, his thumb gently stroking the rough skin under his fingertip. 

“I meant it, you know.” Marcus suddenly declares when they break the kiss for air, Tomas lowering his hand. His tone is far more serious, which earns him a raised eyebrow from Tomas. 

“Hmm?”

“All the things I told you in the confessional. It wasn’t a lie.”

Oh. _Oh._

Tomas’ heart accelerates and he doesn’t know how to reply to this, because this is so much more than just a little naughty game between them, so much more than a fling, so much more than just lust. The only thing he can do is to cup Marcus’ cheek again and give him a smile, trying to let him know he perfectly understood the meaning behind Marcus’ words. And there seem to be an understanding between them, because Marcus smiles back. 

“Good.” Tomas nods. “That’s good. Because I think I remember you saying something about the altar…” He insinuates, and he knows Marcus remembers. How could they both forget, really? “And we still need to take care of your needs.” He whispers, referring to the bulge discernible in Marcus’ pants.  

Marcus mumbles something along the lines of, _that’s enough sin for today_ , and Tomas laughs again, leaning his head against the exorcist’s shoulder while the other man gently strokes his arm, a soothing gesture after all the recent excitation. Tomas’ laughter slowly dies, and all that’s left is the comforting touch of Marcus’ hand on his body. 

The church is quiet. 

 


End file.
